Clitoral please, sir

 "In 1976 a glamorous, softly spoken 34-year-old woman set off a bomb beneath a century’s worth of academic orthodoxy. The Hite Report, a 633-page compendium of interviews with more than 3,000 women that detailed their sexual experiences, dissatisfactions and fantasies, went on to sell nearly 50 million copies and made its author, Shere Hite, who died last week aged 77, an international celebrity.

It caught my attention, it was an article by Lisa Hilton in Sunday's Times (you wont be able to read full article) and apart from marking the passing of a controversial woman who rightly altered the (male) perceptions of sex for women, replacing them with truths and paving the way for better sex for millions of women globally.
 
"For many western women the sexual revolution did not begin in the 1960s, but a decade later, when Hite’s work discredited the vaginal orgasm as the “healthy” goal of female sexuality once and for all. The revelations that 70% of women do not experience vaginal orgasm, that orgasm during heterosexual intercourse is not particularly common and that most women climax more easily through clitoral stimulation."
 
It's well written, it makes clear that the penis is not in the pole position most men at that time thought it was (and some probably still do) and that women deserve and expect a more rewarding range of stimulation and if they don't get they are prepared to take matters into their own hands (With more than 10,000 models of vibrator available from Amazon alone, according to the report).
 
The funny, or strange, thing is that the majority of porn sites still portray women offering themselves up to men, providing a sheath for the male to ejaculate into in spite of the knowledge, research and polls which we now have. Who'd be surprised to find the majority of those sites are designed by males:). I have to say I often find porny stuff when I'm searching for 'in with the new' and I often come acoss sites which show women as having the upper hand and being 'serviced', shall we say, not by penis but by other means and apart from often being better done, they are frankly appealing. Not enough of them to even things up but Rome wasn't built in a day. Here's to Shere Hite, who died last week aged 77.

Stay safe. Wear your face covering, social  distance and keep washing your hands.

Hope you have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

Dublin, Cold and Wet

And dry, well almost, I'm talking about the booze not the weather. P returned from there and he's picked up a bug, got laryngitis (he thinks) and wasn't happy with the trip in general, nor what he called the 'lack of sympathy' from me which got me spanked.

It was a hastily arranged trip, our old partner from China had booked a Beijing-Dublin flight and asked P to join him, he'd arranged some meetings with employers who had staff shortages and had been employing Filipinos with good results but needed more. P was a bit dubious, he thinks there will be opportunities to bring more staff into the UK in various discipline after brexit finally settles but he can't see much point putting effort into Eire and he doesn't want to go back into that full time in any case. Anyway he agreed to go, Chung wanted a bit of support, I wanted to go too but P said no it wouldn't be a 'jolly' as he called it. That pissed me off a bit.

Anyway it got done, P said he couldn't really see much coming out of it but it had been nice to see Chung again even though he seemed to have gone tea-total. P's voice was croaky and intermittent when he got home, I said he couldn't have contributed much in meetings like that but he said it didn't stop his brain from working and anyway it was often better to let the other parties do the talking. He asked me for lemsip and linctus and whatever else we had in the medicine bag, some nasal spray too even though he didn't appear to have a cold. I gave him what we had and let him choose. He didn't seem actually ill to me, just lost his voice and feeling sorry for himself. I told him he should have let me go with him, I'd have been able to look after him (heavy sarcasm) and I'd have been a willing drinking buddy because I love Irish bars and the stuff they specialise in, which I can get through easily over there though wouldn't over here.

Long story short, second day back P's throat was worse, more like a regular cough than laryngitis and I told him so. I made him cancel a visit to our granddaughter because of possible infection, which is low risk with laryngitis but higher with a regular cough. He wasn't happy but accepted it after a few words. Then he got funny with me for not caring enough or trying to put it right for him, well there's not much you can do really for something like that and I didn't feel too concerned anyway as he hadn't taken me with him. A few snipes passed between us and then he decided I needed spanking. I told him I didn't and what about his cough and passing his infection on to me. He told me he wasn't affected physically, not like I was shortly going to be, and since when did spankings pass germs on. I told him any hand contact could so he just said he better not use his hand then and told me to come upstairs with him.

What an idiot! Me not him. If I hadn't mentioned the germs crap he would most likely have spanked me in the lounge, by hand, good and hard hopefully, which would have been just the job after a few days apart and a bit of friction. But now I was being marched upstairs and it would be an implement of some sort. He took me into the office and found the first thing that came to hand which happened to be bogey's paddle worse luck for me. He sat on the futon and made me undo my jeans and get a move on, then he wrenched them down to my thighs and dragged me across his lap. My knickers were next, before he started, so he wasn't playing, and then he started in. He gave me, well, I'd guess between sixty and eighty spanks hard and fast, they weren't punctuated with rhetoric because his voice wasn't up to it. Most of the noise came from me as I wriggled and squiggled begging him to to stop after several minutes. He did eventually and slid me onto the floor. I pulled my knickers up, pouting. I could see his cock was hard inside his jeans, I said I was sorry if I'd been inconsiderate and asked how I could best make it up to him, my eyes blatantly on his crotch. He put his hands on my head.

"Not like that," he said, "much as I'd like to. That's one sure way of passing on an infection."

He was right of course so I got up next to him, unzipped him and gave him a hand job instead. 

"There," I simpered, "see how useful I could have been if I'd been over there with you."

Ronnie
xx

It was all down to the weather

Roll on more bad weather, I say. I mean we had daytime temperatures as low as 15C last week and our heating kicked in a couple of times (which P has now sorted) and that's ridiculous for mid August. Even the weather presenters on TV look sheepish when they try to dress their forecasts up a bit so as to sound not so gloomy. I don't know why they bother, do they think we are all idiots or does some secret arm of government insist that the broadcasting authorities tell their presenters to put a cheerful slant on things to keep the peasants from rising up:)

Anyway I digress because the weather did me a bit of good last week, well quite a lot of good actually. For one it got me an unexpected trip to Finland where I shall be spending a few days near the end of the month and for two, it got me spanked. The Finnish trip came out of the blue, our old partner there has has the use a cabin on one of the lakes north of Helsinki and invited us to join him, it will probably be the last time we go there and I'm looking forward to it. The spanking came about because I was whingeing on about the weather, it was before P mentioned the trip to me, and I was fed up of the cool damp dreary days of so called summer. We still haven't got a holiday booked either so I threw that one in for good measure.

P is actually more tolerant than me about such things, he shrugs it off and gets on with whatever he's doing regardless. Anyway, tolerant of the weather he may be but tolerant of my frequent moaning he is not and he spanked me after he'd told me a few times to live with it and make the best of it and it didn't stop us doing anything etcetera etcetera...and I still went on later the same day. He stood and took a deep breath, rested his hands on his hips in resigned sort of way and just looked at me. It went so quiet I looked back wondering why he hadn't responded.

"You know what, I'm not going to come out with any platitudes, I'm not going to say things just to try and cheer you up like you do with kids, I've had enough now. I'm going to give you a damned good spanking and give you something to really whine about and perhaps you'll give the weather..and me.. a break."

He came over and took me by the arm lifting me up from the sofa, my ipad fell on the floor, I pulled back to try and pick it up but he marched me towards the door. So he was going to take me upstairs which usually meant a longer spanking and most likely an implement involved. I hoped it wouldn't be the cane.

We entered the office and P closed the window to reduce noise escaping. He didn't cane me, he didn't even make me take my jeans down. Instead he sat on the futon and pulled me across his lap and spanked me solidly by hand for what must have been a full five minutes with the occasional pause for him to change hands. A clothed spanking doesn't hurt as much to start with but it does build up over a period and five minutes is a long time in spanking terms, especially when strong hands are administering. He berated me right the way through it, telling me I was childish, selfish, ungrateful, unreasonable and that sort of stuff and that moaning and groaning about something over which none of us had any control didn't do me or those around me any favours at all and I should try seeing a glass half full not half empty and think about how I might brighten things up for other people instead of making life a misery. That got to me and I felt really bad apart from the smarting in my backside, which was going to get a lot worse although I didn't know it. I mumbled that I was sorry, and I genuinely was, and made to get up but P put his hand on my back and held me down, saying he hadn't told me to get up.

I heard him rustling about with his free hand on the bookcase which is just about reachable from the end of the futon. Then he spoke again.

"I know you're sorry, I can tell from your voice that you mean it but that's not enough, I told you you I was going to give you a damned good spanking and I am and I'm only half finished and you'll be even more sorry by the time I'm done and maybe you'll think back on this next time you're feeling down in the dumps and try not to take everybody there with you." He sounded like he really meant it and I honestly hadn't realised how much I must have been getting on his nerves.

"I really am sorry P," I said in a clearer voice this time, "I know what you're saying is true." I was going to say more but then the THWAP came.

It was heavy but pliable and covered a large surface area and could only have been the leatherthorn paddle. My bottom was already tender and I'm sure if he'd taken my jeans and knickers down and given it to me that hard on the bare I would have yelled the place down. It was bad enough over tightly stretched thin denim but I was really on the back foot and although I wriggled a lot because it hurt so much I didn't squeal or remonstrate with him because I felt really bad and knew I deserved a good spanking. In fact at times I even consciously pushed my bottom upwards to try and let him know I knew I deserved what I was getting. I don't know how long it lasted, I think a bit less than the hand spanking.

When it was over he helped me up and had me sit next to him on the futon. My bottom was blazing as much as I could ever remember and the heat was retained by my denims. He put his arm around my shoulder and rubbed the top of my arm and in that split second I thought I was going to burst into tears, not because of the spanking but because I knew I'd been wrong. I wish I could have cried but instead I turned into him and buried my head in his chest, my hand on his thigh and said I was sorry again, several times, softly and meaningfully and we just stayed like that for a few minutes. I think a few tears might have trickled from my eyes and my nose was definitely sniffling. When he broke the quiet I wasn't ready for it and I jumped when he said he was going to make a cup of tea and did I want one. I'd been so snug I almost said no let's just stay here but instead I said, brightly, I'd do it.

"No," he said, "you should go wash your face, I'll take care of it."

I felt like clinging to him but went to the bathroom as he suggested. What an idiot I'd been, I wondered if he'd recorded the moans and groans I'd been making and played them back to me, what would I have thought of myself. It made me shudder to think. I was so happy he'd brought it home to me and the way he'd done it was perfect. Later in the day I went upstairs and slipped my jeans and knickers down in front of the bedroom mirror, my bottom was still red and I'd have a couple of bruises for sure but I was one happy reformed moaner.

On the evening I went and bought tickets to see a laser light show in our magnificent cathedral, we'll go this coming weekend. I also bought my husband a couple of pints of a guest ale in one of the town's pubs, I got them from the bar too on both occasions. I was chatty and had my hand fondling his thigh sitting at a high stool table until I realised that customers on lower seats could see me doing it. When we got home later we had sex, it was very strong, spontaneous and pure joy, before watching some late night TV with a glass of wine.

Next day he told me about the Finland trip, then said not to regard it as a holiday, he knew I still wanted some time in the sunshine and warmth of siesta Europe and he still intended to book something.

I haven't moaned once about the weather since.

Ronnie
xx  

31° caning

I hadn't been caned for ages, I don't really know why, whether I've just been better behaved or whether age mellows the inclination to both give and receive, who knows, I suppose probably both plus the fact that we no longer share an office amidst others going on about their businesses, somehow that had a formalness to it and caning lends itself to formalness. Anyway it was the case and then Saturday happened.

It was a hot day, had been billed as such all week so we were prepared for it and planned a barbecue for the evening. All well and good and it was nice to be in shorts and flip flops right from getting up, it reminded me of holiday times in warmer countries which I started talking about with P, who Mmmm'd and Yeah'd but wasn't really engaging, admittedly he was preparing some food at the same time. I said we should take a break, don't you think? He said we'd just had one or had I forgotten so soon. I told him no I hadn't forgotten, but it had been wet wet wet and I wanted hot and dry, apart from pool and sea time of course.

"I think there are some good deals around, discounts to entice people with the political and brexit crap still ongoing," I said. Mention of good deals usually gets P's attention.

"Mmmm.." was all he said, clearly not convinced or enthusiastic.

I went into the lounge and opened my ipad, a bit of googling threw up some offers which I shouted through to the kitchen. I didn't get a shout back so I went to the door. "Did you hear me, I found quite a few offers easy, you didn't answer."

"Yep I heard you," my husband said.

"Well it's rude not to answer." I reprimanded him with a smile. "So what did you think of them?"

He told me they sounded very reasonable but they'd still be around next week and the week after, maybe even get better. I told him it was always the same with him, trying to get him to commit to a vacation was like pulling teeth. He didn't think that was a good analogy. I tried to tempt him, fresh seafood, steamy sex, pretty waitresses and girls on the beach, boys too I added as I don't mind bronzed male torsos at all. Then he told me I was trying too hard and to just forget it, at least for now, he had other things to think about. I asked him what but he didn't answer so I closed the door and returned to the lounge. I played my face after that, well he was being unreasonable as far as I was concerned. It lasted into the afternoon then, about three o'clock, he told me to come upstairs with him.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I'm going to cane your bottom," P replied, extending his hand to me.

"What the fuck for?" I asked, genuinely caught off guard.

"For giving me hassle, for over trying, for being persistent, for being irresponsible (how did he work that one out) and for barely speaking for the past few hours sulking like a child."

"That's not reasonable, P," I said giving him my hand and warming to the idea of a caning as the tone of his voice wasn't too harsh, "I mean I'm thinking of us not just me." I was making my case even as he led me up the stairs and into the office.

"Stand at my desk, facing the window, while I fetch my cane," said my husband. When he came back I said, "I'm surprised you remember where to find it, it's been so long I hope I don't get dust on my shorts."

"You won't be getting dust on your shorts you cheeky girl, they're coming down." He unbuttoned them and slipped them off my hips.

I gasped and felt that little moment of thrill and fear as my bottom was bared and he told me to bend over the desk. I bent over and then felt him against me, I thought he might have changed his mind and had other plans for my bottom but he hadn't, he just had to lean over me to get to the top window the other side of the desk which was open because it was so warm and he wanted it closed, at least for a while, for obvious reasons. I told him it was too hot to be caned, he just said I'd be a lot hotter soon and he was right.

I sensed him move to the left and looked back as he raised his arm, then scrunched my eyes as his cane swished down and thwacked into my bottom. I squealed loudly and gripped tighter on the edge of the desk, I turned my head forward I didn't want him to see my face wincing then the next stroke landed with hardly a pause in between, I made some kind of Oooarrghhhh! sound and stamped my feet on the floor. I'm sure it made my bottom wobble and possibly a harder target or perhaps it pleased him and he stopped to enjoy it, either way the next stroke came only after I'd stopped stomping and it was right where bottom meets thigh and it made me squeal again. I wriggled and he told me to be quiet and keep still or I'd get it a lot harder and longer. Then his hand was on the small of my back to steady me and I bit into my wrist to stop me shouting out for the next three strokes which were at a diagonal because of the way he was standing but not quite as hard for the same reason. I wiggled through all of them but only my bottom and legs because my torso was pinned down. Then his hand lifted off my back and he told me I could get up.

I was sweating, I could feel it dripping from my forehead. He told me to open the window and I had to stretch hard across the desk, I'm not as tall as him and it gave him a good view of my blazing backside.

"Nice bum," he said, "always the better for a few lovely cane lines. I hope we won't be having any more of your sulky nonsense for the rest of the day."

"No, P." I said with a pout but I didn't really feel pouty. It hadn't been too hard a caning nor very long although it had hurt because I hadn't had it for a while. But although my bottom sizzled, I had other feelings and I suspected my husband did too because his shorts were tenting and they don't lie. I told him with the heat and the sweating it was almost like being abroad, except for the steamy sex of course. When I went to pull up my shorts he told me not to bother but to turn round and bend over the desk again. I thought I'd blown it and was going to get a few more strokes but I didn't, well I did but strokes of a different sort and I was wet and ready for them. I tried to stifle my cries as orgasm approached but I needn't have bothered because the roar that erupted from my husband as he came into me drowned them out. We stayed entwined over the desk panting, sweating, laughing at the noise we'd made. I couldn't see anyone in their front gardens just a few kids playing way along the street, I doubted if they'd have heard anything.

I didn't bring up the subject of holidays for the rest of the day but P will come round in his own time, he always does. The met office said we'd reached thirty-one degrees where we live, pretty warm although a breeze got up later which was pleasant to feel but a nuisance for P's barbecue but all in all a very pleasant day.

Ronnie
xx

I got read and spanked

Hurrah! My husband read my post about not getting spanked, he hardly ever does or that's what he says. Anyway he did, he noticed it because I asked him to re-instate a logo in my margin for 'Jack's Canes', I took it off ages ago and can't remember where I put it but I knew P would know how to find it.

And true enough he did find it although he hasn't put it back on yet. But what he also found was my post which, amongst other things, was lamenting the fact that I was feeling rather under spanked. I don't know if he was really offended by me making such a personal thing public knowledge (I very much doubt it in view of the fact that over the years he's seen far more personal stuff on my blog and never objected) but he made out that he was. He also said that if I didn't feel up to doing the little jobs he'd asked me to do he could always sack me and give them to someone else. Ha! A laugh a minute, good job I know his sense of humour.

He'd obviously taken the hint anyway and asked me what I thought I was playing at revealing things about his business endeavours let alone the spanking drought. He didn't give me chance to answer any of the points he was making, they were all exaggerated naturally, he droned on until such time as he must have thought he'd created sufficient reason to give me a good spanking. He did ask me at the end of the monologue if I had anything to say for myself and, not being entirely stupid, I just looked down at the carpet and muttered that I hadn't. In retrospect I should have argued back a bit because it would probably have got me a better harder spanking.

So upstairs we went and into the office, him leading the way of course and telling me that if I'd been feeling underspanked I certainly wouldn't be in a few minutes. I only had shorts and a t-shirt on, I saw him look at my nipples and thought for a brief moment he might pass on the spanking and take me in the bedroom instead but knew that wasn't to be when he sat on the futon and pulled my shorts down. 'Over my lap. Now,' he commanded. I obeyed, emitting a tiny squeal as I did.

I got my spanking alright, about ten minutes worth allowing for pauses in between when he falsely berated me, and it was satisfyingly hard. My bottom was blazing by the time he stopped, resting one hand on my right buttock and sliding his other under my breast where my nipple responded instantly. 'Naughty girl, you enjoyed that didn't you?' I didn't need to answer, my bottom answered for me as it pushed up against the hand that had just spanked me. I whimpered when he rolled my nipple between his finger and thumb and I put my left arm back and felt for his crotch which was exhibiting a very nice hard on. I started masturbating it through his shorts as best I could and started wiggling on his lap as I felt it stiffen further. It was enough for P, I thought he might have an accident in his shorts but he told me to get up off his lap and kick my shorts off then he took me into the bedroom, me with my hand on his cock. He needn't have bothered, in fact shouldn't have, because by the time we'd got to the bed he was actually on the verge of cumming and I was trying to turn round fast enough to pull the top of his shorts down and get as much of it as I could in my mouth but it all happened too soon and too unexpectedly and some went in his shorts, some over my face and some in my mouth.

I laughed when I saw the wet patch spreading on his shorts, he thought I was laughing at him but then joined in when he saw my face. I pulled his shorts right down then and sat on the edge of the bed and cleaned him up with my mouth, there was still life there but I doubted I'd be getting fucked. I needn't have worried because after a couple of minutes P guided me backwards so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed but with my torso laying down. Then he got on his knees between my legs and committed the most chivalrous act a man can after he's ejaculated. It made me scream with pleasure.

After I'd orgasmed he remained there gently licking and talking in between. He said he wasn't going to sack me, haha, how relieving I thought. Then he said if I get 'spanking withdrawal' symptoms in future I should just tell him, no need to let it build up. I said I don't know about that, sometimes it's nice to build up.

And it is:)

Back tomorrow. 

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Like London Buses

They say London buses come in threes.......you wait for ages, none show up then along come three. So what's the connection with spanking? Well for one, the colour of my backside on the weekend pretty well matched the old image of the London bus and for two, after more than a week of waiting for a spanking three came along within twenty-four hours. Memo to self - careful what you wish for Ronnie.

I got spanked twice on Saturday and then again on Sunday. The second time on Saturday was the hardest but the one on Sunday hurt the most because I was still tender from Saturday and it came shortly after I'd showered.

We finished all the jobs we'd promised to get done on the kids' house, P went over on his own on the last day just to finish up some small touches and I had stuff of my own to get done. I also had time to dwell on not getting spanked, amazing how when you've got it in your system that you need a spanking it just doesn't go away on its own. A bit like when you've got a tune in your head playing over and over which you just can't seem to get rid of. Anyway I decided to send P a whatsapp link to my Wednesday blog and asked him to have a look for me, I didn't say what for or anything, just the link and 'please take a look'.

What did I get back? Nothing sexy, no warning, no promises, just 'I see'. But that was enough to make me excited because he wouldn't ignore it and I'd broken the ice so something would happen, it just had to. When he came home in the evening nothing was said, in fact we went down the road to the local pub and had a couple of beers, no driving, he held my hand which was a good sign but not a word said about spanking. Friday he had to go to Northampton which took most of the day, I thought I might get an email or text telling me what I'd be getting later but not a word until he was leaving to return home and then it was just a guesstimate how long it would take because there was traffic on the M1. No spanking or mention of one as the evening went on and I was getting a bit tetchy. I went to bed unspanked.

Saturday morning was raining, cold and miserable. I moaned about it, I had to take some Internet purchases back to Debenhams but didn't want to. P came in from the garden, he didn't seem to mind the rain, he'd picked the last of his tomatoes and chopped the plants up, he was chirpy and made us both a mug of tea. He came into the lounge and I'd got the heating on, he pulled his drizzled sweat shirt off and said he was too warm, I told him not to throw it on the furniture it was soaking wet. He still threw it on an armchair, then he altered the thermostat. He said he thought I was going into town, but I hadn't even showered yet. I answered curtly that it could wait till the weather improved. He made some comment about my mood could do with improving too and said he was taking his tea upstairs to the office and that I should join him up there when I'd finished mine, he wanted a word with me. I felt my heart thump.

Less than ten minutes later I poured a third of my tea down the sink and went upstairs, he was sitting with his back to me clicking away at his laptop. He must have heard the door open but he didn't turn round, just told me sit, while I still could, and wait for him, he'd be a few more minutes. I felt my legs go weak and I needed a wee. I started to say something but he cut me off and said he'd be with me shortly. Oh shit isn't it stupid, I was going to get what I wanted and yet I'd been about to make excuses for myself without even hearing yet what my husband had got to say. Anyway a couple of minutes later he turned around and told me I'd been sullen and ill tempered since last night and it had gotten even worse this morning. He got up and moved onto the futon next to me as he was telling me all this. He said he wasn't going to tolerate moodiness of any sort over the weekend, there was no need for it, it was unacceptable and he was going to nip it in the bud right now. He pulled me across his lap, dragged my shorts down and started spanking me. He continued his exaggerated diatribe as he did it, I still had my knickers on but flimsy silk is no protection against a man's hand and my husband's hands had been working manually all week so they were on top form. He spanked me for about five minutes, covering both cheeks thoroughly, then made me apologise for being sullen. He told me to get up and go shower, he needed to go into town himself so we may as well go together and he didn't want to hear any nonsense about the rain. As I opened the door, he called, "Oh and when we've finished what we need to do, it'll be a snack lunch then back home and a sound spanking for you, my girl".

"But you've just spanked me!" I exclaimed.

"That was for your childish and quite unnecessary mood," he said. "I shall spank you later for that post you published on your blog, or rather for what it implied. Or perhaps both, anyway it was clear from it that you need a very sound spanking indeed and I am going to provide one." I left the office and floated off for a shower.

How a girl's mood can change. I was chatty and jokey and, for the first time, asked him how his little trip had gone, showing genuine interest. I even paid for lunch. I'll admit I was a little apprehensive that he'd said 'very sound' but sometimes he uses words for effect and I was excited too. The earlier spanking had made me horny.

So we got home mid afternoon and P said we should go upstairs to the bedroom. He wasn't just taking me across his lap then. He sometimes use the razor strop in the bedroom and also the cane because he prefers me in the laying position with my hips raised on pillows when he's going to spank me with certain implements, especially if it's going to be hard. I gulped when I heard his words. My knickers had been damp all the way home but I was already having second thoughts about how this was going to work out.

Well I needn't have fretted too much. He did put me across his lap in the bedroom as it happened, on the corner of the bed. He spanked me pretty hard, first with his hand and then with our rosethorn paddle, it super-heated the whole of my backside to the point where I could barely feel the leather when he let it rest against my cheeks, which were half bare and half knickered where my panties had pulled into my crack. I thought that might be the end of it. A pause before he made me go down on him or kneel up on the bed to be penetrated. I was wrong. He lifted me fully onto the bed then got up himself and threw a couple of pillows into the centre. He told me get over them and then pulled my knickers right down to my ankles. I gasped. I heard him walk around the bed and then saw him reach under his side and withdraw his cane. He came back round to the left of me and gave me six strokes, quickly and effectively giving me no time to adjust or protest, only wriggle and squeal. The pain from the strokes was still registering with my brain, it kept coming in waves, I wanted to get up and dance, then I heard him walk back around the bed to my right. I went to twist onto my side so that I could see him. "Get back as you were!" he barked.

He gave me another six and I screamed, several times. I knew our neighbours were out but I don't think it would have made any difference had they been in. He dropped his cane to the floor as I pounded the mattress with my fists and roared incoherent protests at the pain in my bottom, my legs thrashing wildly trying futilely to dissipate it. P walked calmly to the bottom of the bed and took my knickers from my ankles, goodness knows how they'd kept on.

"You probably won't be wanting to wear these for a little while," he said, "I hope that's cured you of you week-long malaise, just let me know any time it builds up again or perhaps I'll look into your blog more often and see for myself." Oh he was pleased with himself, and amused, I could hear it in his voice. I heard him go downstairs, good, I didn't want him pestering for sex, those thoughts had gone. I spent half an hour or more nursing my smarting bottom before going down and resuming normal contact. We had a lovely dinner just the two of us that evening, I'd gotten over the spanking although my bottom hadn't and I knew there were welts. I was getting horny again but didn't get anything.

Then Sunday morning when I came out of the shower P was waiting in the bedroom for me, sitting at the top of the bed against the wall. He was in just his underpants, his summer tan making them whiter than white, his bulge very evident. I hadn't expected it, my hair was dripping, I has a towel wrapped round me, my backside had been teased back to tingles by the shower, I said, "Let me just dry my hair." I licked my lips and looked directly at his cock. "Please," I added.

"Come here and lay over my lap," my husband said.

"Oh no P, please, you spanked me really well yesterday, I could feel it in the shower my bottom's so tender".

"Do as you're told unless you want me to get the cane out again". I shot over his lap. My towel unwrapped, I could feel his cock pushing against my hip, my hair was dripping, at least it was his side of the bed.

Then he spanked me. He threw the towel off the bed and alternated between hands. Oh god it hurt. I was tender and had bluish smudges where the cane had welted, my sit spots were still pink and the water jets had actually stung so much I'd had to turn them down. I muffled the duvet into my mouth to stop me screaming. It didn't last long fortunately, he had other things on his mind, but it really did hurt, it brought tears to my eyes, the sort you might get when you trap your finger in a door or bite your tongue, short sharp pain. He told me to go down on him, I said I'd just dry my hair off a bit first but he said no, do it right now as you are, with your backside roasting and a sorry look on your face. Well I did it and he was drooling and hard as a flagpole, I thought he was going to spurt into my throat any second but he held off, I don't know how, I was starting to get wet myself when he said, "Right dry your hair off now, I'll sit and watch you. Then we're going to fuck and I don't care what sort of mess we make". So I dried off, a bit awkward with him and his cock watching me and my heat rising. I didn't dry properly, we fucked instead. Then he went downstairs to make a cup of tea while I finished off. So I got my spanking and more:)

Ronnie

xx                    

55 cm of sting

Well I suppose it was probably no more than 15-20cm at any one time doing the actual stinging, I mean the contact, but of course the extra length determines how much sting gets delivered. Retrospectively (certainly not at the time) I would have liked more sting but 55cm was my max baggage allowance, I supposed I could have squeezed a few more if I'd packed it diagonally but I, or rather my husband, didn't think of that.

 

I'm talking about my England flag which would have been the cutest England flag any security office had ever seen, with its shiny stem and its neat little red handle with hanging loop, if I'd been stopped and searched. But I wasn't. And when we'd reached our destination and settled in, the flag was unfurled and removed from the pole and laid inside my husband's travel bag. And there it remained until the third day of our holiday in spite of me reminding him a couple of times that it would have to be reassembled if we were to take it into town with us to watch the football. He just smiled.

 

The second evening the weather turned, the sky clouded and a warm wind got up, we started a meal outside a restaurant but swapped to inside halfway through because the wind was blowing everything around. Locals thought rain was imminent but it didn't happen, it stayed warm too but hardly anyone was left outside because of the wind. I checked my phone and told P it said possible light showers for the next day, in line with what I'd checked back home. P 'humphed' a bit, said he didn't like eating indoors, wasn't what he came on holiday for but the food was still good and the atmosphere was friendly. We were both in happy mode and visited a couple of bars after we'd eaten, it was midnight before we decided it was bedtime, either a taxi or a twenty-five minute walk uphill and slightly out of town to where we were staying. We walked, in fact we did every night, and got a few big splashes of warm rain on the way but it didn't take hold. P asked me if I'd brought my handbag umbrella, I told him he must be joking. He clutched my bottom and told me he hoped we didn't get drenched then or someone would be getting spanked. That made me feel even warmer inside than I did outside.

 

Next morning, I suppose about 5.30 am maybe earlier, I could hear drumming outside, it got louder and I realised it was rain and it escalated the way hot country rain does. P heard it too and sat up to look at the terrace door which we'd left open and where the rain was bouncing and splashing inside it was so heavy. P got out of bed to close it and then the first lightning flash came. I heard him say 'Christ!' and then the door sliding almost shut. Then a few seconds later the first thunder clap. I love continental thunderstorms, I was wide awake now but snuggled tightly into the single sheet. I saw my husband stride across the room, I thought he was going to make coffee but he went to the wardrobe instead and reached up to the top shelf where he'd put his bag. When he turned and came back to the bed he had the cane in his hand.

 

"So it looks as if we are going to get drenched after all," he said.

 

"We're not drenched at all," I said, "this will pass, these little storms always do." Then I thought how stupid am I, and added, "But then again the weather graphic did show cloud for the whole day."

 

"Turn over," he instructed. I went to unravel the sheet as I turned but he snapped leave it as it was and just turn my body over.

 

He swished the cane a few times through the air. The rain was really heavy by now and P told me it was perfect caning weather, I know his sense of humour, I knew it wasn't going to be a serious caning, not with a sheet for protection although I didn't have any knickers on underneath.

 

"Best make use of it," he said cheerily, "in case it does continue into the day, then I might have to cane you without the benefit of the thunder to disguise the strokes. And your whimpers."

 

I like hearing him say that sort of thing. Then he told me it made a lovely target, my bottom cheeks like sculptures, two mounds rising up under the thin cotton, offering themselves for chastisement. What sort of drivel was that I thought, but I'm sure I raised said bottom cheeks a tad higher. Then I felt the first thwack, sharp as a thunder crack. Followed by another and another before I could catch my breath. He gave me six then ordered me to shuffle to the middle of the bed and he walked round to the other side. I felt him take hold of the sheet and though he was going to unveil me but instead he adjusted it so that it was tight and smooth against my bottom, I guess I ravelled it when I shuffled across. The rain slowed a bit and I heard the stroke swish through the air, god it was sharp and I squealed. Another five, which had me wriggling I hoped lasciviously for all I was worth, and then I felt him lifting and sliding the sheet off my shoulders and down my back. He rested in the small of my back and stroked, then continued over my hips and buttocks making me release weight from side to side to let it slide. He stopped it half way down my thighs and told me my bottom looked very red but there were no stripes.

 

I felt him straighten up, then he told me a bottom had to have stripes after a visit from the cane, then he gave me another six swishes and they seemed extra hard because I'd just had six from that side and I squealed quite a bit but still raised my bottom for more, greedy slut that I am. P walked casually back to the original side of the bed and gave me six real stingers, absolute humdingers that made my eyes water. The rain had picked up again, I thought he might go with it, I didn't want him to but I didn't want him to stop either. I watched him walk back to the wardrobe and replace the cane, this time he walked back to the bed with just a hard on.

 

He got in beside me and snuggled. More lightning and thunder followed. I wanted sex but I wanted to enjoy the moment too. P stayed my hand when I reached across for his cock, goodness knows where his self control comes from because he'd looked pretty urgent as he'd strode across the room. We lay there enjoying the storm, I eventually drifted back to sleep, I don't know whether P did but when I woke back up it was seven thirty and he was still next to me. This time I didn't bother reaching for him, instead I snuggled my head down under the flimsy sheet and found his cock with my mouth. It had been sleeping but it didn't take long to wake up and a few minutes later we could have done with some more of that thunder to mask the roar of my husband as I thanked him for my caning.

 

Ronnie

xx 

Out of the frying pan

...into the fire. So the old saying goes. That's what I said to P last night, I mean it's pretty hot here right now and we're flying to Portugal so I looked online and I think it's a degree or two cooler. I said I preferred leaving the UK dull and wet when parting with it for a sunshine break. He said nonsense, the warm weather's lovely for sure but we don't have the sea on our doorstep here and we don't have al fresco dinners with fresh seafood or whitewashed villages and colourful fiestas. Sun, sand and sea, the three S's, he said. Then he corrected himself and said it should be the five S's, at least in ours case, and added sex and spanking to the list.

"But we already get the last two here," I said.

"Ah but not as intensely," he quipped. I hoped that was a promise and not idle banter:)

I'll be giving P a little hint.

(taken on a previous holiday)

Thanks in advance for your comments. Reply when I return.

See you when I get back.

Ronnie
xx

A Treat in Stockings

I  was sifting through my bottom drawer looking for some VPL pants to take on holiday with me, couldn't find any but did come across a set of stockings still attached to suspender, I smiled and then I mused about taking them to Portugal. Probably won't but I looked back in as I remember writing about wearing them.

It's a re-post but it was good fun so here goes......

I don't wear stockings very often, in fact I don't wear them at all for normal purposes, not even for going out somewhere special. Oh I do like them, don't get me wrong, I like them very much, they make me feel sexy and vulnerable and powerful (yes I know that's contradictory) and glamorous and all sorts of things but they're just not as practical as pulling on tights so they don't get used. Much. The exception of course, when I somehow manage to find time to fiddle about with clasps and make adjustments and get them just right, even on a warm day when no sensible person would wear such things, is when I'm wearing them for erotic purposes. Whether I've decided to wear them or been made to wear them I don't mind, either way I'm likely to get something more out of it than shiny legs for a few hours.

So I was delighted the other day when I came out of the shower and found a pair of stockings, still hooked to a suspender from their last outing, lying on the bed. P must have rummaged through one of my drawers and left them before he went to the office. I smiled, then my phone rang and I went downstairs to get it, I missed the call, it was from P so I called back, he said he was just calling to make sure I'd seen what was on the bed and to make sure to wear them. I told him it was going to be hot for stockings, he said I'd better do as I was told and wear them anyway and that I'd be a lot hotter if I didn't. Yummy insinuation, I remonstrated just to keep it going for a while, told him they wouldn't go with trousers or jeans (which I mostly wear for work) and he said I was to wear a skirt. "But P I don't wear skirts to the office unless we have visitors"............"Just do it, and don't be late in," he said and the call ended. Happy days, my husband must have been feeling particularly perky, it seemed like ages since he'd taken this sort of initiative, I was humming happily while I put on my stockings and suspenders

and searched for just the right knickers and found a nice retro style pair in black silk with minimal but tasteful lace trim then turned my attention to finding a skirt thin enough and tight enough to hug my curves and show outlines if I bent, which I intended to do quite a bit.

Our girl was in the office when I arrived, later than my usual time of course, she only works three half days now. I made a point of chatting with her more than usual, sat against the end of P's desk which I know he finds irritating, I hoped my suspender was showing through the thin skirt cotton but didn't bother looking, I pointedly ignored my husband. She must have thought I'd been drinking I was so chatty, she got very animated when I brought up the subject of holidays, they're taking their little girl abroad for the first time soon and really looking forward to it, I made sure the chat went on and on. At lunchtime she left, she still had a lot of profiles to finish and said she'd do some from home but I told her it would be all right she could finish them next time she was in. P told me I'd wasted an hour of her time, which he was paying for, and an hour of my own too. "Oh don't be a mean boss," I said as I bent unnecessarily low to check some stock in the corner of the office. I stayed there a while pretending I couldn't find what I was looking for. Then I felt a slap on my bottom and smiled slyly as I emitted a surprised "Ooh!"

The day continued in similar vein, with little casual touches, me being mildly saucy and by late afternoon complaining that I was rather behind with my own work and that some of my orders would just have to wait till next day (I wasn't behind really). P said if I'd still been working for him and taken that sort of attitude he would have taken the cane to me. I felt my face go red and my tummy went melty. I needed to say something quickly, something that would seal my fate. "If I was still working for you and got behind I'd have concealed it, that's what I always used to do and you'd never knew," I lied cockily. "Oh really," said my husband, "I'll deal with you after work."

And so he did. At 5.30 I started to get ready to go home and he said "Not so fast young lady, I've got twenty minutes work to finish then one phone call and then I'm going to cane your bottom soundly before you go home. So sit back down while you still can."

Twenty minutes can seem like a very long time when you're sitting on the edge of your seat waiting to be called across the office to have your bottom caned. When P got to his phone call I was in such a state I don't think I could tell you a word he said or even who the call was to. Then the talking stopped and he put the phone down, walked over to my desk and told me to stand, then sat where I'd been sitting and pulled me across his knee. He couldn't get my skirt up because it was tight and below knee length, I asked if he needed me to get up (helpful aren't I) but I think he was a little embarrassed at having his masterful manner and intentions thwarted so he just spanked me over the skirt. It felt delicious and several minutes later my backside was throbbing and P's hands were lightly caressing my cheeks and tracing the contours of my underwear. My knickers were moist and if my husband had lifted me off his lap at that point and bent me over my desk and fucked me silly I would not have been a disappointed girl. But that didn't happen. 

I was made to stand then marched, for effect I suppose, the short distance from my desk to my husband's. I stood with my hands on my bottom watching my husband retrieve the curve handled cane he keeps taped to the underside of his desk. I gasped inwardly as the sticky tape released it into my husband's hand and he stood and swished it a couple of times as if to make sure it still worked. Then he made me shuffle my skirt up over my hips, I thought ridiculously my bottom must have been bigger after the spanking because the skirt hadn't seemed so tight when I'd put it on in the morning. I'm still self conscious when my husband ogles me prior to a spanking, I could feel my face burning as I exposed my knickers framed by my stockings and suspenders and stood waiting awkwardly.

A thought flashed through my mind, had I fastened the suspender over or under my knickers, I couldn't remember. Then I was being told to bend over and P's left hand was on my back easing me forward. "All the way," he demanded. He maked me settle against the desk top, that way I've got no way of wriggling forward. He told me I'd been provocative and disruptive and pushed my luck just a little too far and then he asked me if I had any idea how luscious my bottom looked at that very moment and how much he was going to enjoy caning it and then, without waiting for a reply other than the whimper which escaped my lips, he raised his cane and brought it swishing down onto my bottom.

"Ooooaow..!" I exhaled and stamped my right foot several times before receiving a second stroke in almost exactly the same place. "Oooooargh no please!!" I exclaimed and wriggled my bum from side to side and then pushed it upwards because I needed the next stroke, which was surely coming, to land somewhere different. "Eeeeowwwchh..!" I screeched as my sit spots were seared. Then I felt P's thumbs in the waistband of my knickers and he pulled them down to my knees and I knew the answer to how I'd fastened my suspender. He told me that girls as naughty as me got it on their bare bottoms especially when their bottoms had clearly been begging for it........I lied that I hadn't been begging for it but he told me I was dressed in such a manner that left him in no doubt he was doing what was necessary. I got another six strokes form the cane across my bare bottom

and I screeched and wailed and eventually begged him to PLEEEEASE stop.. I'd learnt my lesson.. I knew I'd been naughty... I agreed I'd deserved a good caning...I'd had one...Oooowwww..as I stomped from leg to leg... PLEASE stop.

Then I realised my husband had put his cane down and was just standing there ogling again, ogling a naughty well caned girl trying to save her bottom from further punishment. "Now pull your knickers up, adjust your skirt, put your face straight and go home," he said. He made me do it while he stood watching, lecherous and amused. I kept waiting for him to say something else but he didn't and I left the building with a sore bottom, on my own, hurrying to the car in case anyone I knew saw me; even though they couldn't possibly know I'd just been caned, I was too flustered to talk normally.

When I got home I was starting to feel a bit stiff, I went straight upstairs to look in the mirror, realised how hard he must have caned me when I saw the stripes and felt some of them ridging. I straightened my skirt and went downstairs, my bottom seriously suffering from after sting and a deeper burn was establishing itself, I sat down but couldn't keep still, lifting one side then the other and letting my fingers run gently over the wicked little welts. P arrived about twenty minutes later, I didn't acknowledge him, just looked moody. He asked me if I was all right, I didn't answer, he said I'd better cheer up or he'd take me upstairs and cane me again. I didn't appear to cheer up and P escorted me upstairs, he didn't cane me though, instead he pulled my skirt roughly up to my waist and undid his trousers, he had me on the bed on all fours and started to unfasten the waist clasp on my suspender. "No don't P," I said, "keep it on and my knickers too, just pull them aside and do it fast. And hard." So he did just that and thrust himself forcefully into me and in spite of the pain in my nether regions gave me the best rogering I'd had in long while.

I was absolutely exhausted afterwards and my bottom was still suffering most of the following day. I suppose it will be an eternity before I'm instructed to wear stockings again, still there's nothing to stop me taking the initiative myself, I do find them sexy and a sore bottom is a small price to pay for the surrounding thrills.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Too hot to get spanked

It's what I said to my husband last week when I saw the razor strop lying on the desk in our little office. He was already in the office but not standing waiting for me and, in fairness, he hadn't 'summoned' me. He was sitting on the futon with his laptop on his lap engrossed in something or other, I later learnt it was to do with our LAN which is malfunctioning. So I suppose I was jumping the gun a bit when I said what I said.

"Who said anything about spanking?" He asked. I told him seeing the razor strop

just made me think..you know.

"Ah well, it's not there for that reason, it's there because I pulled it when I moved the desk to retrieve the operator guide for the printer which had fallen down the back. I loosened the hook which I need to re-fix which I'll do after I've got the printer online again (we've been having a few tech problems)." Then he added, "But it's never to hot for a spanking. If I decide one's necessary one happens regardless of the weather."

"Oh I see," I said, both disappointed and relieved. It really was hot, not that I'm complaining, shorts and t-shirt weather suits me. Anyway emboldened by his explanation I stuck my bottom out and wiggled it a bit. I think if he hadn't been hell bent on getting to the bottom of the printer's refusal to talk with my ipad, he probably would have spanked me for being cheeky, a friendly spanking you understand, as he was in quite a chirpy mood considering he hates tech problems.

So I went back downstairs. Five minutes later I heard his drill so he was presumably making a deeper fixing for the little brass wall hook. Five minutes after that he came downstairs too. He announced that our printer was crap, it's a Canon and it prints great but it isn't air print enabled so no amount of tinkering will let me use my ipad on it and for some reason my laptop has lost its ability to communicate with it since P put a new router in last week. It talks with his laptop but not mine. Crazy. He said we'll replace it but I said why not replace my laptop as it's getting a bit old.

"That's the trouble with devices," he said, "you get something malfunctioning then fix it but if you've introduced something new and something else doesn't like it, another problem can show up which didn't exist previously and so on. Frustrating."

"I'm sure a big strong man like you will be able to sort it out," I said. "...Eventually," I added for good measure. He knew I was teasing him.

"You know what, I think I'll borrow another laptop and just test it and if that works then maybe we will replace yours. So if you need printing done use mine. But for right now, as you're clearly taking the matter lightly and making a bit of fun at my efforts, I'll take a little break and have a bit of fun of my own."

He sat next to me on the sofa, dragged me across his knee, pulled my shorts down and spanked me. It was several minutes before he stopped and not before he'd made me squeal.

"Still too hot to get spanked?" He asked, sounding pleased with himself.

I rolled toward his hips pressing my left buttock against his cock which was rigid.

"You mustn't have heard me correctly, P, you were so engaged with that nasty technical stuff upstairs," I said smiling, "didn't you hear the 'never' bit?" I was lying of course but that didn't matter. Then I added, "It's never too hot for a fucking either."

I got one, over the back of the sofa, with a few more slaps for good measure and it was a hot one indeed and I was struggling frantically even as I was coming, to pull my shorts back up as far as I could to to catch the mess. See how a woman's mind works even in the throes of ecstasy:)

Ronnie

xx 

Mamma Mia!

Mamma Mia! indeed. I think it might be an understandable exclamation any unexpecting Latino girl (do Latinos really say Mamma Mia?) might have come out with having just had a steel butt plug shoved up her you know what. But this isn't Latino, it's an Aussie real-life (apparently) account on manamia.com.au of a visit to a Dom by a young lady, which involved considerable spanking and mind blowing sex in what seems to have been an overall pleasurable experience which left her feeling as if she'd run a marathon and caused her to stop at the first drive-thru on the way home for a double size chicken fries to rebuild her energy.

Why have I got hold of it? Google sent me the link. Why is appearing it on my blog? I thought it was funny, the way she wrote it and the way things happened.

"I was told to wear heels, a dress, bra and no undies.

I was standing in the carport of a very nondescript, small house out in the ‘burbs. It was midday on a weekday. Such an odd time and setting to be embarking on what I was about to do.

My hands shook, and my legs were wobbly and I almost turned around and ran back down the driveway.

But I was here now. I took a deep breath and propelled myself forward.

I knocked on the door and waited......"

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Frustration and a Sore Bottom

 You get what you get...not what you ask for.

That was what my husband told me a couple of days ago after he'd put me across his knee and spanked me hard and fast with his hands. God it always surprises me how hard his hands can be, I mean he's not a manual worker although he does enjoy doing manual work but his hands surely make an impression

You see we'd been out and I'd been spankless for several days and, in an unusually playful mood, P had tapped my bum a few times and cautioned me about made-up things I hadn't done, nothing in particular but for which I deserved a spanking. I like him doing that when we're out, as long as he does it discreetly, it gets me going. On the way home in the car I had my hand on his thigh, hoping to continue the momentum he'd started; anyway when we got in he received a phone call and had to go and find some information, he went off to the office and it was an hour before he came back. When he reappeared in the lounge his mood had changed, I could see from his face that he was mulling stuff over, but mine was far from gone. I gave it a while then asked him what was up.

"Nothing's up," he said. "Just the guys Chun sent over last week aren't working out and the company wants to replace them."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, except that they want it doing next week and that's not possible. I think I'll have to drive over and sort it out and get the full story face to face."

"Not now, surely?"

"No not now but within the next day or two," he said. He wasn't happy.

"Well that's good because I was hoping for a bit of, you know, wink wink, nookie." I could see he wasn't really up for it, he wasn't angry but definitely distracted. There was probably more to it than he'd said, he doesn't usually say much when he's still working things out in his head.

He turned towards me, took a deep breath, frowned, then let the breath out, smiled weakly and strode across the lounge to where I was sitting. He lifted me and took the seat I vacated then pulled me across his knee. I was delighted although a bit miffed that there hadn't been any continuation of the innuendo and sexy banter from earlier. Not one to look a good spanking in the mouth though, I gave a little squeal of fear (appreciation) as I landed in his lap and another, bigger squeal, when he raised my skirt and started in spanking me without so much as a word. It was hard and I loved it even though he didn't take my knickers down, no doubt that would happen soon, before he fucked me. Dream on Ronnie, the spanking stopped and I was smarting and hot but he just sat me up and said, "There, that will have to do for now."

"What about the nookie?" I asked, exaggerating indignance. "You've got me all worked up I'll be frustrated."

"You get what you get sometimes, not what you ask for. A sore bottom and a bit of frustration won't do you any harm at all."

Then he went to make a cup of tea. He brought me one too and said he had to make some calls and he'd do them from the office. I smiled sweetly and said, "Okay, I'll just stay here and be frustrated."

I wasn't annoyed. Things happen. But boy, I certainly was frustrated:)

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Carry On being Prudish

Are us Brits prudish? I'm not saying we are but Josh Clancy in last weekend's Sunday Times did. And he's living and working in New York now so he's got a feel for both sides of the pond.

...Brits are terrible at talking about sex. It’s a stereotype, but one that persistently rings true, much as the Irish do indeed all drink like thirsty Labradors, and posh people really do all live in freezing-cold houses where it’s impossible to keep your feet warm.

We make jokes about sex, of course — bawdy gags about giant breasts and minuscule manhoods that horrify many Americans. But an honest, practical conversation about how best to perform oral sex? No chance...

And the reason, as I understood his article, was that not only are we be a bit prudish but we are poor communicators when it comes to sex whereas our American cousins are open. That's a generalisation of course but I thought it was probably near the truth.  

...One of the surprise advantages of moving to America has been how much more open people are about all this. If someone wants something in bed, they tend to ask for it. If they want something done better (hard to believe, I know), they tend to explain how...

Esther Perel, the New York relationships guru, argues that any notion that sex just comes naturally is 'bullshit' as she puts it. Sex of sorts might, but good sex does not. “The myth that sex is natural has done harm to so many people.”  Instead, Perel argues, it is something we must cultivate and consider, or we risk wallowing indefinitely in passionless ignorance.

British people seem to expect sex to improve by an enigmatic process of bodily divination. A survey in 2012 showed that more than half of British adults find sex the most awkward topic to discuss with their partner, coming in far ahead of death and money, which occupied the other medal positions, says Josh.

I thought about the article later in the day and about how friends and family ever treated the subject of sex, on the rare occasions that they did, and I asked P what he thought. He was immediate in his response, saying he thought Brits were overall a bit stand-offish, shy, insecure, call it whatever but the bottom line was they were awkward with sex. I asked him if he thought I was awkward with sex (you can merge spanking with that although I didn't say it) and he said yes, of course I was, at least until I got warmed up and then horniness overrode inhibitions. I wanted to ask him more....but I was too shy:)

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx

Mother lode of yum

I'm not sure that's an appropriate synonym for what I got on Saturday but it will do as a header and I'll elaborate of course. You see I got caned on Saturday, which hasn't happened to me for quite a while because my sometimes caner (my nearest and dearest) has been having strange headaches as those of you who stop by from time to time will know. He had an MRI on Tuesday and got a call Thursday with the findings which showed no tumour (that word hadn't actually been said but hey we're all human) but there were some irregularities and he's seeing a neurologist on Tuesday. How's that for NHS efficiency! 

P's headaches had softened before the MRI but were still persisting at a low level. He was cheerful enough but not quite his normal self, I'm the one who does most of the worrying, I'm also a stickler for keeping appointments on time, almost as if I get there a couple of minutes late I'll miss my place and go to the back of the queue. I harry P whenever we're going somewhere together and I'm always proved wrong with my timing and we get to places way too early; airports, dinner bookings, you name it and it applies to hospital appointments too. Well I didn't go with him to the MRI place but I did persuade him to take the traffic seriously and get there on time. He was there twenty five minutes too soon, he told me afterwards. He also told me I deserved a good spanking for getting him there too early but it was only a passing comment or so I thought.

Anyway he got this neuro appointment and after his chat with the doctor seemed pretty positive so I was too. Then Saturday morning I check where the neuro guy is and he's nearly an hour's drive in average traffic. I told P and he said no way, I told him I'd googled it, he'd need to allow at least half again to be on the safe side. That wasn't going to happen, he said, but it reminded him he owed me a spanking from earlier in the week. My ears pricked up. I told him I was only thinking of him and I remained adamant about his appointment next week. He thanked me for my concern but told me it was a fine line between appropriate concern and nagging and that I was always wrong and he was always right when it came to journeys, he also said men were just better drivers and planners (wtf!) and then told me to come upstairs with him. I asked him why and he told me I was going to get spanked, then he said double spanked; one which he owed me and one for today, then he changed it and said he'd roll them into one and cane me instead. How unreasonable can a man get, but it was music to my ears because it meant he was feeling pretty much ok, I could hear it in his voice and I rejoiced inwardly for both of us.

He continued his theme as we went upstairs, berating me for hassling him at times, telling me he'd tolerated my flapping and fussing far too often and he should have given me a sore bottom many times but he'd overlooked it, well I was about to get one now and doubted I'd be sitting pouring over google maps for the rest of the weekend in fact he doubted I'd be sitting for the rest of the weekend. He has a way with words. My stomach was fluttering, I was so happy to hear him overdoing it I allowed myself a little 'me' thought, it was excitement, I wanted it and his scolding was making me wet for it after a few weeks of not being able to feel like that. O Lord for what we are about to...

So he took me in the bedroom, fished out his cane from under the mattress and told me to bend over the side of the bed, his side by the window, not how he usually canes me. I started to query him "But..."

"Don't even bother," he cut me short. "Do as you're told, you're in enough trouble, turn your head and you can see yourself in the mirror, or part of yourself anyway. And you can see part of me as I  bring my cane down across your bottom and you'll see the look on your own face as you get what naughty interfering mithering nagging girls get." Oh my he was definitely laying it on a bit now and I loved it. The only thing was he hadn't taken my jeans down. I thought about reminding him but didn't. Then I sensed arm movement and heard a couple of swishes and then a longer swish and a THWACK! and I screamed. Even through my jeans it bloody stung and drove me forward almost onto the bed. I repositioned myself, whimpering, and twisted my head towards the mirror where I saw his forearm and the cane raise and steady before whistling back down across my bottom. I saw myself jolt forward with the force and my face contort with the pain. I didn't see the third stroke, it came fast, before I'd readied myself, it stung like hell and made such a noise against the meatiest part of my bum it truly shocked me and I expected the after sting to be worse than it actually was. P was saying stuff to me about trusting I was learning my lesson and that I'd remember this in future etc etc, window dressing really but I loved it and after about eight or ten strokes I realised the pain wasn't as bad as a bare bum caning but the swishing and thwacking were much more dramatic and I made sure my cries matched.

I was half way to heaven when the swishing stopped and I felt P's arms around my waist. He started undoing my jeans. I thought 'Oh god I'm going to get it on the bare as well' and I think I might have squirted a bit into my knickers just before my husband pulled them down, with my jeans, in one go. "Oh please, P, it already hurts..." I started to say. "Be quiet!" He snapped. Then I heard him fidgeting and his own zip coming down and then his cock was thrusting between my cheeks and I raised on tiptoe to offer myself at the same time saying "Oh no P, it's too big" in my best well-caned-naughty girl-oh-goodness-and-now-you're-going-to-fuck-me indignant voice.

I think he must have liked the voice or perhaps the sight of my deeply reddened backside offered up to him, whatever, but his too big cock plunged into me with brute force which made me gasp and within three or four strokes, a little way before I could catch up, he came and how! I felt it in my stomach, a mother lode of hot melty yum and I collapsed onto the bed under his weight with him still inside me. I didn't come, I wanted to but I was so glad he had and in spades too, I knew that was a lot of stress unloading.

P slid his hand down my tummy, I knew where he was going but said "No, I'm fine." He kept it there anyway but didn't bring me on. He whispered in my ear, "You can keep planning our journeys if you like, I think I'd miss it if you stopped." I just smiled.

Then he got up and ran his fingers across my bottom and said, "Hmm...I think I was a bit lenient, I'll finish your caning off tomorrow," I knew what that was code for and I did indeed get my own stress relief the next day.

Have a good week.

Ronnie

xx